


The Mechanic and The Vigilante

by DemonMamoru



Category: TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Faked Death, Familial Issues, Fighting, Graphic Depictions of Torture, Light At the End Of the Tunnel, Manipulation, Mind fuckery, Misunderstandings, false death, graphic depictions of healing, graphic depictions of injuries, possible lemons in later chapters, possible trigger content: suicidal thoughts/themes, with glimpses of brightness along the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonMamoru/pseuds/DemonMamoru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's about 2:15 a.m. and Avery is walking home from work on a cool night in New York City. She's jumped by three goons, fights off two, and when the third is about to take her down, guess who should show but New York's newest vigilante? Thankful for being saved, Avery, an accomplished mechanic offers him a way to get around the city faster so that he can save more people, and pay back her debt to him for saving her. </p><p>Raphael is out at night, struggling with the loss of Leo and dealing with it by venting his anger on any crooks or scum bags he happens upon. When he saves a girl from some thugs, he doesn't expect to get a motorcycle out of the deal, much less a friendship that both of them will come to depend on.</p><p>Both of them are put to the test when strange things start happening in the city. And when Leo comes back, that throws a whole new wrench in the gears of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Midnight Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> So hey guys, this is my very first story that i'm posting on A03! Whoop whoop!  
> I'm trying very hard to be detailed in my writing, but not slow the overall story down too much. I look forward to see the attention this will get. On that note, flames shall be used to roast marshmallows and cook steaks. 
> 
> This takes place in the 2007 movie-verse, but it will have mentions and things from 2003, and the 2012 tv series.
> 
> I will try and post chapters weekly, but with college and a stressful and hectic homelike, I can't promise it. But I will do my best to update frequently
> 
> So sit back and enjoy the first chapter! (Also, this will be multi chapter fic, but i don't know how to change the 1/1 chapter thing, so just bear with me. >.
> 
> (There's also a POV change from Avery to Raph, indicated by -----)

Chapter 1: Alley Assault

 

She exhaled, the smoke-like water vapor lingering the cold night air as she huddled in her coat for as much warmth as her body could muster. The streets in this part of the city were mostly deserted, except for some cars going by occasionally, and the people who were smoking outside of some run-down bar. She gave them a wide berth, and continued walking. She was close to home, and cut through an alley that was filthy with garbage and caked with muck. Graffiti clung to the walls like old faded bloodstains, and the light that there was from street lamps dwindled even more further down the alley. Avery hated walking through it, but a new gang was up and around, and they claimed the street she lived on at night. This path took her to the back of her building where it was more likely that she wouldn’t have to deal with them.

It was two in the morning, her shift at a 24 hour pizza parlor had started at five, and normally she got of work right then, but the boss had let her go early, as she had a pounding headache that had been bothering her most of the day. The cold was helping to clear her head a bit, at the cost of the rest of her body being cooled as well. She was looked forward to crawling into bed and sleeping for as long as she could. 

But her thinking distracted her from noticing a small movement in the far end of the alleyway. There were three of them, all of them thin, small, and bad intentions. The girl looked like an easy enough target, as she hadn’t been looking like she was paying that much attention. One crouched behind a dumpster, and another two hid behind a group of dulled gun-metal grey trashcans. They waited quietly as the girl kept walking toward them. 

Seconds passed, and then the girl was right in front of the first guy, the smallest of the group, behind the dumpster. He jumped out, silent, but she heard the rustle of his clothes. As her eyes moved to look at him, seeing his tattoos on his neck, and his multiple eyebrow piercings, she reacted with her natural instinct: fight. 

As he came forward, she took a step backward, and punched with her left fist, hitting him square in the nose, feeling the cartilage be crushed, and a warm gush of blood splatter on her hand. She punched again with her other hand in a one-two boxer combination, then came in with a left hook that hurt his cheek more than it hurt her hand, and finished with an uppercut. 

“YOU BITCH!” screeched the second one, not realizing that he would have a greater advantage with the element of surprise. He was slightly bigger, wearing a shirt with the sleeves ripped off, the inside of his elbows red and scabbed over from drug use.

Startled, she mule-kicked him in the groin and then spun and kicked him in the stomach. He gasped, his diaphragm muscles disagreeing with the pain in his body and the signals from his brain telling him to breathe. 

The third, the biggest but shortest of the bunch, with a square jaw and a mean expression, saw that the girl wasn’t going to go down without a fight, snatched up a dirty beer bottle and smashed it on the back of her head.

Blackness oozed as quick as lightning into her vision, trying to take over her sight. Already fighting her headache, she did her best to shake off the pain, staggering a couple of steps, trying to turn and face her enemy. Her vision was still blurry, with black fluttering around in the edges of her vision, and she pulled her hands up to at least guard her face, but she couldn’t tell that the last man had a knife, and was slashing for her throat.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the fourth month after Leonardo had, in Raphael’s opinion, abandoned them. The emotional wounds were still fresh, even then. Raphael, out of all the turtles, was the most physical out of all of them. He was angry? He took a rooftop run across the building skyline. He was sad? He gave the punching bag a piece of his mind. He was happy? He’d give his brothers playful swats on the back of the head. 

The way he felt about Leo leaving? The anger and disbelief and disappointment, and absolute sense of betrayal that burnt in his heart like acid? That took a special remedy. It didn’t take him long to decide to go topside every night and take out his rage by striking down as many scum bags as he could every night. It provided his needed outlet, and gave him a sense of purpose once more.

In an unexpected turn of events, becoming a vigilante was bizarrely liberating, he didn’t have to listen to the ‘fearless leader’ or put up with Mikey’s attempts at comedy, or Donnie’s particular and signature brand of sarcasm. He was free to act how he pleased, take action according to what he believed, and not have to answer to anyone about why he did things the way he did. Not being nagged at for liking fights too much or seeking conflict was a nice change, but it still wasn’t anywhere near making up for Leo’s exodus.

When Splinter and Leo had first shared the news about his trip to South America, Raphael didn’t react at first. He didn’t know how to react. Why the hell did Splinter feel the need to have Leo go and train in an entirely different country to improve upon his leader ship skills, when under Leo’s guidance, they had killed Shredder? It wasn’t like there was any other crime lord that could compete with the Foot empire. 

As much as Raphael disagreed with Leo’s decision, he couldn’t sway his brother from going. The void that was left by Leo’s absence, and the power vacuum that was left in the city, was, to sugar coat it, not a good combination. 

Ever since Leo left, Donnie and Mikey wouldn’t go on patrol. They lost their will to fight to depression. No matter how Raph nudged and prodded them, neither of them would go topside for a night patrol. Not too long ago, Donnie got himself a job as costumer support for a computer company, and drowned himself in his work. 

Mikey, who say that Donnie didn’t have enough time to be depressed, decided that he wanted to go into the workforce too. He consulted his staff-wielding brother who gave him the idea of working with kids. (Because, by Donnie’s reasoning, Mikey would be able to relate to them very well.) Mikey opted to become an entertainer for children’s birthday parties, and Donnie even helped him out with advertising on the internet, and printing him flyers and business cards. Once the word got around that ‘Cowabunga Carl’ was actually a good act, he got more work, and Mikey was absolutely thrilled with having extra money around. 

But Raph was a different case, going on solo patrols, and saw up close and personal the gangs, the crime rings, and the illegitimate businessmen all fight for territory in the city. And while it didn’t bother Raph a bit that gangs were fighting each other and hurting each other, nothing incensed him more than civilians getting hurt or killed in the crossfire. What was more was that without the Foot around, people forgot about the turtles, and didn’t fear repercussions from them. 

Dressed in military boots, baggy cargo pants, a huge leather coat, old mittens that kept his three fingered hands from site, and a motorcycle helmet to conceal his face, he was hastily carving out a name for himself as the newest and best vigilante in New York. Cops were finding groups of gang-bangers tied up and unconscious, with their knives, guns, and any other miscellaneous weapons in a pile beside them. When this became a pattern, finding the perps already ready for pick-up upon their arrival, they knew that someone out there who was more dangerous than any criminal that they had caught so far. Needless to say, it left the higher-ups in a very uncomfortable situation.

Raph had already left one group of gang bangers for the cops to find, and was in a rare good mood. Nothing made him feel quite so content as winning a fight. He jogged easily along, a radio turned to the police frequency, where he might learn his next destination. Leaping easily from one roof to the next, he heard a scream of ‘BITCH!’ and ran over to the edge of the apartment complex he was on, and glanced down. A man with a bloody face on the ground, a girl kicking the second man. He was mentally applauding her for fighting back, when he caught site of the third one, picking up a beer bottle, and was already on his way down, but not soon enough to prevent the last thug from smashing the bottle viciously on the back of the girls skull.  
Raph dropped the last ten feet to the ground, and closed in on the man from behind, spinning in front of him and landing a series of devastating blows on his face, chest, and stomach. The man grunted, dropping the knife, before falling over and blacking out. Raph’s palms clapped together as he wiped them off.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Avery was well aware that she was, unless a miracle happened, going to lose this fight. She could hardly see the other guy, and the pain in her skull pounded like drums in a rock show, lancing through thoughts like lightning, and keeping her from focusing. He moved forward, and she skipped back, the safest bet when she couldn’t see what he was doing, and saw a fourth shape.

For a second that felt like it stretched out to an eternity, she figured that she was done for…then that imagination instantly shattered as the new person began attacking her attacker. 

_Good_ , she thought, _turn the tables on that bastard!_ Before dropping to her knees, her hands flying up to where she had been hit, trying to check for blood, relaxing as she didn’t find anything.

“Goddamn it,” she said, loud enough, wincing from the pain. 

She heard the sounds of running, and apparently the two guys were trying to run, but she watched the new person clothes-line them, and then he did something else she couldn’t see with her vision swimming, and she heard the sounds of bodies hitting the ground. Then the shape walked over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“’M ok. I’ve had worse…” Avery groaned, “Help me stand,” and when the new figure hesitated, “I’m hurting yes, but I’m fine. I’ve…had much worse than this. And I can’t afford to pay hospital bills anyway. Just…help me to my place, it’s just the building down the alley…not too far…”

The figure must have nodded, or at least understood, because he, with care, hoisted her left arm over his shoulders, and helped her stand. 

“This way,” she pointed with her good arm, indicating the end of the alley. “Turn left,” she said, they came to the back of a brick building. “That door,” she was pretty sure that he figured that, but said it anyway, since she was still fighting off pain, and not quite all there. 

When the made the few steps to the door, she dug her keys out with cold and clumsy fingers, before managing to unlock the door. The guy supported her and led her inside, as she turned on the lights and relocked the door. She turned, and the person was looking around the autoshop.

“I live on the second floor,” Avery explained, “up the steps over there,” she flicked her head to the stairs. He carefully let her guide him, and he helped her on the stairs, keeping her from falling over and taking her weight when needed. They made it up to the second floor, where at the top, was another door that she unlocked, then they went inside, and she flicked on the lights. 

“Couch,” she grunted, and he helped her sit down, where she practically turned into ooze and relaxed. Avery had an almost sixth sense about people, she could almost always tell whether someone was ok to trust or not. And her gut was telling her that this was a good person, and trustworthy. She hadn’t been wrong about a person yet. It did strike her kind of funny that he hadn’t spoken at all, but maybe he was just a quiet kind of person. She honestly didn’t give it that much though, as her head still wasn’t quite working right, and noticed that the new person wasn’t in front of the couch anymore.

She was about to call out, when he walked back over, and handed over a zip-lock bag that had a generous amount of ice in it.

“You read my mind, pal,” making a face halfway between a grin and grimace and took it, placing it on the head, and hissing at the cold and pressure. Her vision was finally clear, and she saw him nod, and sit in the chair next to the couch.

“So, what’s up with the get up? You got a bike somewhere?” she asked, now interested in knowing more about the person.

The person in the helmet shook his head. 

“You the new vigilante on the streets? The one who’s been leaving body piles for the cops to find?” 

A nod.

Truthfully, he was prepared for her to cut him down, condemn him, and he’d resent it as he just saved her-

“Good. ‘Bout time the crooks around here were scared of somethin’,” Avery smirked.

He nodded.

“What’s your name?” she asked, not really expecting a response, as he hadn’t said a word to her the whole night. “There’s a pen and paper in the drawer of the coffee table,” she supplied. The table was low and short, but had a single drawer. Mechanic and engineering textbooks were strewn on the top, along with a math book and a piece of paper that had equations and notes scrawled messily on it.

Taking her at her word, Raphael pulled open the drawer, fished out a legal pad, and a pen, reclined back in the chair before shutting the drawer with a boot.

Raphael wrote for a few seconds, and then held up the note pad.

**I don’t have one.**

“You mean a vigilante name?”

**Yes. Raphael wrote.**

“Well, since you obviously don’t want people to know you by your real name, you need something else to go by. Like The Goalie does,” Avery frowned.  
The nameless guy cocked his head in a curious manner.

“You know, the vigilante who was part that whole huge Foot gang bust a few months back. The guy wore a hockey mask, and everyone called him “The Goalie”,” Avery made quotation marks with her fingers.  
“You need a street name,” she said.

**Like what?** was the written reply.

“Like…hmmm…. Guardian? No, that sounds dumb…” Avery mumbled, mostly to herself.

**I don’t need one.** Raphael wrote, starting to become impatient with the girl who was now trying to give him an unnecessary name.

“I suppose you don’t. Actions speak ten times louder than words. Hey, how are you finding all those crooks before the cops get there?”

Raphael held up his ham radio.

“That makes sense. How do you get around the city?” Avery was curious.

**I run.**

“How do you make it in time?” Avery adjusted her ice pack while he scribbled out something else.

**I cut it close, most of the time.**

“So, if you had a means of transportation, you’d be able to stop more crimes?”

**Yeah. Probably triple of what I do now.**

“Can you handle that many fights a night?” Avery had a motorcycle that she had been tinkering with and fixing up. A ‘rescue’ as her uncle put it, from a junkyard where it was going to be scrapped from a wreck. 

**No problem.**

“There’s a key ring on a hook in the kitchen with two of the same keys on it. Wouldja go and get it for me?” she asked politely. “You walk in, it’ll be on the left hand side.”

Raphael wasn’t too sure what she wanted it for, but got up and brought her the keys anyway, and tossed them to her before realizing that she probably had a concussion. But then again, she was talking, and wasn’t displaying any trouble with motor function, so he figured she would live.

Avery missed catching the keys, but they landed in her lap. She pulled a key out from the key ring, away from its twin.

“Catch,” she tossed the key to him, and he deftly caught it, and held it up in a ‘what’s this’ manner.

“Downstairs there’s a bike. You’re welcome to use it, on two conditions, you don’t be reckless and kill your self, and you park it here when you’re done for the day. Or night. I’ll keep it fueled, and maintain it,” Avery finished.

**For real?** Was the reply.

“Yep. And I owe you. I’ve seen those guys on the news, they’re thieves and rapists. If you hadn’t come when you did, I’d be either dead, or wishing I was. I don’t like debts, and I hate people like them. If you can help more people by me giving you a means to get around the city better, I’m more than happy to give you that bike.”

**Thanks.**

“Now, next question. Do you know how to ride?” Avery smirked.


	2. Extension of Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael meets back up with Avery, and she shows him the bike. He asks questions, and gets answers that he can also relate to. Raphael realizes that they have something in common, and feels empathy for her and her situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I'm sorry I'm so late with this, I've been meaning to post weekly, but life gets in the way! Anyway, I am proud to present this next chapter of TMATV! (Yeah, I abbreviated that shit like a BOSS! XD)

It was a week later, and 2:30 at night. She hadn’t had any problems, as sometime earlier during the week, the vigilante she had met took out the gang that had ‘claimed’ her street. They were in jail, awaiting trial for several accounts of assault, theft, breaking parole, and were being held in contempt by the judge. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be back for quite some time. (She had jumped up and down, dancing when she heard that they were put away on the local news, and even more so when she heard the way that the cops had found them was similar to how the police were finding criminals. She just _knew_ that it was her new acquaintance.) Avery turned off the t.v. in the living room, and went downstairs. Her skull still throbbed dully every once in a while, but she damn well knew her brain power hadn’t decreased, and after a couple of days of taking it easy, along with ice packs, she was feeling just fine.

            Avery needed to fix a couple more things on the bike before it would be fully street legal, like replacing the left front turn signal, and fixing the right hand rear view mirror. After those easy fixes, she finally deemed the bike ready. Avery had also gone out riding for a bit to get a better feel of the bike, and its nuances, so she could include those things while showing the guy how to ride. The only thing that was a problem with the bike was that neutral was hard to find, and Avery figured that the transmission had come from a Honda. Probably meant that the original engine had come from a Honda as well, actually.

            _**Thud! Thud!**_

            The sound of something hitting her door brought her out of her thoughts. Avery knew who it probably was, but she grabbed a can of mace that she had purchased two days ago, before going over to the door. Releasing the deadbolt, she opened the door just a crack to peer out.

            The sight of someone wearing an old, beat up, motorcycle helmet with a leather jacket set her at ease, and she lessened her grip on the can of mace.

            “You made it,” she smiled, and held the door open for him to come in. He gave her a small wave in acknowledgement.

            “So you taught those bastards who were mugging people a lesson?” she grinned. “I like you more every day.”

            His shoulders shook in what Avery guessed was laughter, and he gave her a thumbs up. She took this as confirmation that he was happy with her assessment of him.

            “Well, are you ready to start?” Avery asked.        

            He nodded.

            “Ok, so first thing first, have you ever ridden a bicycle?”

            A shake of the head for ‘no.’

            “Do you have a good sense of balance and a decent amount of coordination?”

            Avery got a nod this time.

            “Well, I’m sure once you walk the bike for a bit, you’ll get the hang of it. So,” she walked toward the bike, motioning him forward, “well, anyway, I admit it’s a bit….grungy looking, but it’s what you’ve got.”

            He walked around the bike, examining it; his hands felt the handle bars, passed over the seat, getting to know the bike a bit. He looked at the gauges for fuel and speed, and the switches for turn signals, horn, headlights, and saw that the key was already in the ignition.

            “Like it?” Avery asked, after a few minutes.

            She got a nod in response. “Good. So, to start off, the most important things on any bike, are the throttle and brakes,” she began, “get on the bike, and I’ll show you what part does what. You don’t have to put the kickstand up, but if you sit on it, you’ll get a better idea of what you’re dealing with.”

            It made sense to him, you didn’t learn a new weapon by seeing someone else use it, you had to pick it up and test the feel of it. He slung his left leg over the seat, and sat down carefully. Knowing he weighed more than the average human.

            “Alright, so, the way you just got on the bike right now was wrong. You always want to get on from the side where the kickstand is, lean over and use the other foot to lean the bike over, and then with the opposite leg, kick up the kickstand. Ok?”

            Raphael nodded, understanding it was the most efficient and quickest way. As a ninja, he knew that being able to do things in the fastest way possible could save your shell.

            “Moving on, with a motorcycle you have two brakes, one to each tire. This one,” she tapped the metal piece in front of his right hand, “is the brake to the front tire. By your right foot, in front of the peg,” she walked around, pointing to another piece of metal that stuck out from the bike, “is you’re rear tire brake. Now 70 percent of your stopping power is in your front brake. But you want to use your brakes equally. Use the back brake first, and then use the front brake. If you’re going down a steep incline, use the back brake, not the front one, ‘cuz it’ll flip you over the handle bars, got it?”

            Seemed simple enough, he nodded again.

“Now, when you use the brakes, you have to put in the clutch, which is this,” she pointed to the bar in front of his left hand. “You don’t put in the clutch, you’ll kill the engine. Now, you’re right hand, the engine’s turned off, the handle on the right is the throttle. You twist it, and the more you twist it back, the faster you’ll go. Keep a stiff wrist, if you’re wrist is floppy, you won’t have good control,” she said sternly. “Stiff wrist is important,” she repeated.

            “The next thing is the gears, by you’re left foot, in front of the peg, that’s the shifter. Press down on it with your toes, all the way down, you might feel it click a few times, just keep hitting it down until you don’t feel it click.”

            She heard a couple of clicks as the toe of his boots put pressure on the shifter.

            “Feel that?” she asked.

            Another nod.

            “That’s what shifting a gear feels like, you’ll feel it catch as you shift. Now, to shift into a higher gear, you put your toes under the shifter, and pull up. Downshifting is the opposite, you just press down. Pretty easy to remember right? So, between first and second gear, is neutral. It’s a bit harder to find, ‘cuz it doesn’t feel the same as a gear, and you have to really get to know the bike to feel it. So, raise the shifter a bit, and see if you can feel neutral, and I’ll listen for it,” she said.

            Raph looked over at the shifter, hooking the toe of his boot under it, and pull up, being careful to ease it up, then he felt a catch, not as strong as a gear, but there nonetheless.

            “There you go. Feel different than a gear, huh?”

            Raph raised his hand, palm down, and twitched in a ‘so-so’ gesture.

            “Yeah, almost, not quite. Next thing, to shift gears, you need to put in the clutch. Just like in a stick shift in a car or truck, if you don’t put in the clutch, you’ll kill the engine. Same rules apply here; you got to put the clutch in for starting, stopping, and shifting. So, if you were going to start in first gear, you put in the clutch, press the gears down to first, give it a little bit of gas, and slowly let the clutch out. You’ll be able to feel the bike ease forward, and you have to be smooth with it, don’t let the clutch out fast or you’ll just kill the engine. Now on the clutch itself, only about the last third is where you need to be smooth, you’ll be able to feel it the more you ride. Still, you can feel the bike when it decides it’s going to move forward.

            Now, you don’t have to give it that much gas, go ahead and twist the throttle. Feel how far back it goes, feel the clutch and brakes too, get to know the parts a bit. It’ll feel awkward when you first start out, but when you get the hang of it, it’ll feel like it’s an extension of yourself,” Avery said.

            He nodded again, squeezing the clutch handle, the front brake, and pressing down on the foot brake. He twisted the throttle back too, going farther back with it than he thought it would. He put the gears back in first, pulling up, and counting six gears. He put them all down again, back ‘til first, and played with everything a bit more, before looking back at…and he realized the he didn’t even know her name.

            “Alright, so, any questions, or are we good so far?” Avery asked.

            He held up his hand with his index finger extended. It didn’t work so well, as he was wearing some black mittens to conceal his three fingers, but he managed.

            “Ok,” Avery walked over to her workbench, and pulled out a note pad that she had brought for just this reason. She plucked up a pen, and handed it to the other person.

            _What’s your name?_

            “Oh god, I haven’t told you, huh? Well, for future reference, I’m Avery.”

            He started writing again; a few questions sprawled on the paper.

            _How old are you? Do you live here alone?_

            “I’m 19, and no, I don’t live alone. My uncle lives here too, but he’s gone for a while.”

            Raphael saw her face fall, knowing something was off. You didn’t get to be a ninja without learning how to pay attention to the details about a person’s physical appearance. You acquired this ability to pick up on the little things, ideally to use them against another person in battle, but it was also useful for tact in conversations.

            _What’s with him?_

“He,” Avery’s face twisted again, “See,” she sighed, trying to start, she pulled up a short stool and sat down, ”I’m going to college to become an automotive engineer, and that’s partially because of my uncle. I’ve lived with him since I was little.”

            Raphael scribbled out another question. _What about your parents?_ He figured that would be a sore topic, but she didn’t even flinch.

            “They were killed in a car accident when I was four. I don’t remember anything about them, I was…well, I don’t remember where I was. But they died instantly in the crash, and my uncle was next of kin. We’re pretty close.”

            _Not trying to come off as insensitive or anything here, but where is he?_

            “He’s off giving seminars at universities, teaching about diesel technology, he’s a genius, really. He’s been gone for the last month, as it turns out, he’s really got a knack for teaching,” Avery sighed, “I’m happy for him. Alone here, he’s not that happy, he just works as a mechanic in a small shop, but he works here for all his designs. He went in on a seminar that some big dealership was doing, and pointed out every flaw in their new design, they were about to drag him off, but then someone from a Japanese company, apparently prestigious, asked him to continue, and offered him a job. The first thing they want to do is give him a reputation, so they have him giving lectures and stuff. He’s supposed to come home every once in a while. But…it’s already been a month…” Avery took a breath, “and it looks like he might not be back for another one. The company is paying him, so we have money to pay for this place, but…he’s not going to be around that much. And if everything goes with this new company, then he might move up in the world, and while that’s all well and good, he might have to move to Japan to do it.

            And, they don’t approve of me going with him. So if I don’t prove that I’m every bit as smart and hard working, and genius, we’re going to be separated. On top of that, he’s doing spectacular, and while it’s great that he’s finally being recognized, I miss having him here,” Avery finished.

            Raphael could understand. Considering the situation he had with his family.

            And with Leo.


End file.
